


Lost in Nightmares

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Reset Button [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dream Allison Argent, Dreams and Nightmares, Dubious Consent, Heartbreak, M/M, Memory Loss, Nogitsune Stiles, Scallison, Sciles, Scott Feels, Scott gets his memories back, Violence, season 4 compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:23:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2182962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott's memories have started coming back, but the nightmares are wearing his best friend's face. Deaton returns with a way to help Scott regain everything he's missing, but becoming that person again might mean Stiles will lose him for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in Nightmares

Scott tried to stay awake and watch the show Stiles had been so adamant he loved, but it was hard to keep his eyes open. He didn’t notice how cold it had gotten until his breath puffed in a cloud and Scott frowned, shivering. They needed more blankets on the bed or maybe he could just wrap Stiles around himself and, Stiles? Scott stood slowly, holding out his hand to catch the drifting flakes of snow. What was going on? He turned slowly, carefully making his way through the snow covered garden. It was silent and muted like the colors had been drained away, but there was something terrifying about this place that ruined the quiet beauty.

“I’m going to make your best friend kill you, Stiles. And you’re going to let him.” A slurred voice hissed in his ear and Scott spun, trying to find the source.

“What?! Who’s there?”

“End it, Scott. Let your friend fall on his own sword. Do for him what he cannot do for himself. Do it, Scott.”

“I-I’m not going to kill him! Who are you? Stiles?”

Scott snarled at the shadows that pulled themselves into human shapes, claws extended and ready to fight. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt his best friend, not even himself.

“It looks real and it feels real, but Scott, you gotta trust me!”

The wolf hesitated. Scott trusted him, always. The dark figures pulled swords that glinted in the moonlight but Stiles said…he _said_ …the blades cut deep, but he kept moving. He could trust, this was right. They’d get through this even if the spray of blood on the snow looked so real. He was not going to scream, he was going to keep walking. One foot closer to the door, another…another….

Scott stumbled through the double doors, patting himself down searching for bloody wounds that weren’t there. Where? The snow was gone, the starlit sky replaced by plain white tiles and the metal exam table in the middle of the room. A doctor? A…vet? He could smell animals close by, rattling in their cage. The wolf gasped, blinding pain shooting through him as he collapsed back against the table and stared in shock at the blade protruding from his gut.

“Stiles?”

The boy looked different, his hair plastered down and wet, clothes clinging to his body. It was the stillness that terrified him, the restless energy replaced with something motionless and utterly in control. “Please don’t. Stop.” He breathed, voice shaking.

“It’s okay.” He knew those words, had spoken them a thousand time to each other, but there was a maliciousness behind it. “Does it hurt? Hey, look at me.”

Scott couldn’t help but look up into that face that he loved, but that wasn’t his friend looking back. Something sly and wicked behind his eyes without any of his humanity to soften it. Long fingers played along the hilt of the blade before wrapping around the handle and twisting with almost a bored expression. Scott screamed, insides shredded along the sharp edge of the oni’s katana. He wanted to cry, to beg, anything to make it stop. The thing with his best friend’s face was speaking and all he could do was watch, slack jawed and helpless.

“All that pain, you took it all. Now, give it to me.” Stiles. Not Stiles cupped his face and pain was replaced with a pleasure so intense his eyes rolled back into his head. Pain was pulled unwillingly from his body, replaced by a sick and aching need and a hollow sort of void that settled in his heart.

“You really have to learn, Scott. You really have to learn not to trust a fox. They’ll fool you.  _They’ll fool everyone._ ”

Scott bolted upright, awake and screaming with his hands pressed hard against his stomach like he could staunch the wound.

___

Stiles woke briefly to see the good Shepherd kicking ass on screen, and Scott sleeping with his mouth open. He’d grinned like a fool, pressing a careful kiss to the soft curve of his mouth, trying his best to keep from disturbing Scott while draping himself over his werewolf. Naps were good, he decided. If he got up before Scott again, maybe he could surprise him with a handsy and lick pizza sauce off his nipples or something. Stiles was too sleepy to think.

If he hadn’t been, maybe he’d have noticed something was wrong. Scott was usually the worst person to share a bed with. He always got in Stiles’ way. They were crawling over each other whenever they tried to share space, but this time, Scott was doing a terrifying impression of a corpse. Until he screamed.

Stiles was moving before he knew what to do. “Scott? Scott!” 

He pushed into his best friend’s space, trying to hold him down. Sunlight still filtered through the window, and they looked like they were the only ones in his bedroom. Not even the pizza box had been disturbed, and on screen, Netflix was asking if they wanted to watch the next episode. Scott wouldn’t stop shaking.

"HEY! Scott! No one’s here. You’re okay. You’re okay!"  _Please be okay._

___

“Get away from me!” Scott fought against the weight holding him down, thrashing and wide-eyed in panic. He was convinced his hands were covered in blood, he could still feel the way the sword pierced through his gut at the way Stiles, not Stiles made him feel so good as the agony was pulled from his body until he was ready to beg for more.

His hand closed around his best friend’s throat, eyes red and fangs glinting sharp in the sunlight shining across the bed. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him, it hurt too much. “You’re not Stiles!  ** _WHO ARE YOU?_** ”

Scott stopped dead, staring at the hand digging claws into the boy’s neck. His fingers were clean, no blood. He let go, trying to scramble back and ran frantic hands down his stomach. Nothing? The dark skin was whole and unbroken, no trace of a wound or any blood. It wasn’t real…h-he must have been asleep. It was some kind of terrible nightmare, it had to be.

He looked up at the human, shaking and confused, his precarious safety ripped away. “Stiles? I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry, I thought you were…not you. It was just a dream.”

___

It felt like Stiles’ entire world was turned on its axis. The last time Scott had attacked him, he’d been out of his mind and pushed to his limits, driven mad by the full moon. Since then, nothing had been able to shake him into that same mistake, not Peter Hale, not Deucalion… His eyes followed Scott’s hands, to where they closed over unmarred skin.

Not the Nogitsune.

Stiles hadn’t moved from where he was thrown, one hand still resting against his collarbones. He knew exactly where the sword had pierced. He remembered exactly how Scott had begged for mercy, and when that failed, screamed. It had taken Stiles so long to stop feeling cold, but those memories flooded back too readily.

"It was the fox." Stiles didn’t need to ask. They fooled everyone - nearly everyone, for long enough to spread enough pain and strife to rock the entire town. His hands were shaking. He knew what they looked like covered in blood. 

He pushed himself away from Scott, before tensing in place and second-guessing himself. He didn’t know who he was trying to help, but he didn’t think it would do anyone any good. “I can tell you about it if, if you calm down, dude. You don’t have to sit here. You don’t have to believe me. You can ask anyone -“

Stiles had asked himself for weeks, afterwards, if he was really the one in his mind. He knew why people shouldn’t believe him. Sometimes he still didn’t believe himself. 

Scott had never asked. 

___

“The fox.” How did Stiles know about what the dream-him had said?  _You really have to learn not to trust a fox._  Scott shivered, running his hands back across his stomach as if to reassure himself that he was okay. It was just a dream, it didn’t mean anything. People had bad dreams. He took a deep breath, trying to swallow his heart that beat too fast and too erratically in his throat. 

“It wasn’t you.” Scott didn’t know who he was trying to convince, but he knew that those words were true. “It was just something in my head, I just had a nightmare. It wasn’t you.” He searched Stiles’s face, trying to find any trace of the cruel glee in his eyes. He’d been so sure the boy in his dream had been his friend until something shifted, like the mask slipped, but there wasn’t anything of that  _thing_  in Stiles’s face now. “It’s not you.”

He reached for his friend, running apologetic fingers lightly over the human’s neck before curling his body beside him. It was the same scent of safety, the same slightly cooler feel of his skin, the same weight that he’d spent the past two days memorizing when he didn’t know anything else to hold on to. “I’m sorry, are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you. I believe you, Stiles. I will always believe you.”

 _I’d walk through swords because you told me I should. I trust you with everything. I love you_. 

___

This was Scott. This was his Scott, even stripped bare of everything that tied him to this life, he was still Stiles’ best friend, with a heart that was too big for his own good and claws that hated to hurt. Stiles wrapped himself around him as tightly as he could, like he was convinced Scott would disappear if he gave him half the chance. Scott believed in him, and Stiles could only tell him he loved him when Scott didn’t know any better. That didn’t stop him from saying it.

"I love you." Stiles whispered, kissing Scott’s mouth. It was a chaste, careful thing, but Stiles just needed to know he could keep him.

"I’m okay. We’re okay," Stiles insisted, even if his heart practiced acrobatics in his rib cage. The nogitsune had come first. That could be a sign of something dangerous. They couldn’t take any risks with a foe who played minds like instruments. A strangled laugh escaped him, and he forced out a smile. "On the plus side - looks like you’re getting your memories back."

In that moment, Stiles couldn’t think of anything good about it. “What did you remember? The clinic.”

Stiles hand rested over Scott’s back, right where he knew the blade had exited.

___

Scott smiled against Stile’s mouth, finding comfort in the touch. “I love you too.” That was real, something true that helped to settle him. They were going to be okay, until Stiles shattered the fragile sense of safety he’d started to rebuild.

“That was a  _memory_?” He looked utterly shocked, speechless for a moment as he tried to accept it. The look on Stiles…not Stiles’s face, the pain and the pleasure, the sword twisting until he screamed. Scott shook his head, trying his best to deny it. “It can’t be real, it wasn’t you. I-it…”

How did he know about the animal clinic? Or that it was a fox? This wasn’t his life! His life was odd friends and lazy make outs and so much laughing. It was love, not horror! It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. “It was snowing.” He said quietly, looking down at his hands and praying to whoever would listen that Stiles was wrong. “Something wanted me to kill you and I  _wouldn’t_. You said I should trust you and there were so many things with swords. A-and then I was somewhere else and-, it looked like you, but it wasn’t. It wouldn’t stop and everything hurt and then it took all the pain away.”

“It wasn’t real.” Scott’s voice was more of a question, begging to be told he was wrong.

___

Scott was terrified, but he hadn’t pulled away. Scott had an awful habit of not running the fuck away whenever something evil and menacing threatened his family and friends. That still hadn’t changed. Stiles loved him so much. One day, he was going to lose him because of everything that made him Scott, but right now, he’d hold on as tightly as he could and fight to never have to let go. 

He carded his fingers through Scott’s hair, shamelessly making a mess of things, and he pressed the line of his body against his. Their knees knocked, but they were close enough that maybe Stiles could imagine hearing Scott’s heart race. 

"A couple of months back, I was possessed by an evil spirit." Stiles explained, before a bitter snort escaped him. "Yeah, it’s as bad as it sounds."

His other hand curled low on Scott’s back, drawing circles around a patch of skin that should bear scars. They’d fought wars together, and all the rest of the world would see were a couple of lost kids. “It was a nogitsune, an evil - fox spirit. It made me kill a lot of people. Hurt  _you,_  but you saved us… You still saved all of us, and I.”

He shook his head, tracing the strong lines of Scott’s back, all the way up to his shoulders. They’d had a chance to go back to when everything was simple, and it was coming to an end. Stiles kissed his best friend slowly, like he could apologize for everything they’d had to go through to survive, like it was his last chance. “I’ve got to tell the others. Best to figure out why you remembered the dude who messes with minds first, y’know?”

___

Scott leaned into the other boy, pressing his mouth against the bare skin of Stiles’s shoulder like he could kiss away the horrors. He thought the werewolf thing was strange, but it was easy to forget in the sea of normal, teenage memories he’d been trying to relearn. He was some kind of a monster, but no one saw him like that so it was easy to ignore. This was proof there was worse out there, things that came for him and for those he loved. An evil fox spirit, things like that shouldn’t exist. The look on Stiles’s face as he twisted a sword through him shouldn’t exist.

It wasn’t about him, he could deal with the pain. Something had taken Stiles’s mind and turned him into a killer and Scott couldn’t bear the thought. He wrapped his arms around the human, pulling him down onto the bed and stroking down the side of his face. His own fears didn’t matter anymore, not when something had hurt this boy he loved with all his heart. “Are  _you_  okay? If that actually happened…I’m sorry. I won’t let anything touch you, I promise. I won’t let anything like that hurt you ever again.”

What else was out there and how much of it was trying to kill them? If wasn’t supposed to be like this, he was lucky. Monsters weren’t real. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” He asked after a minute, keeping his face buried into Stiles’s side. “The things I’ve forgotten, they’re bad, aren’t they? What happened to us, Stiles?” For the first time, Scott didn’t want to know.

___

Scott pulled him down, and Stiles went willingly. There was nowhere else he’d rather be. He wriggled in Scott’s gasp, trying to find the best position to maximize skin contact and to prevent most of his limbs from falling asleep. It was a valiant effort. Scott felt good to be around. “I’ve got to tell the others,” he mumbled, but instead of moving away from Scott, he pushed closer and tried to roll them both towards the end of the mattress so Stiles could grab his bag. “Look.”

He insisted on showing Scott as he typed out the text, just six words that he sent to the majority of his contact list.  _Scott remembered Nogitsune. Look into please._  It wasn’t a trick. Scott didn’t ask for proof, but Stiles wanted to give it. He never wanted to carry that mantle of trickster again, not like that. He was buzzing with nervous energy that he could only disperse by rubbing it into Scott’s skin, pressing closed-mouth kisses to every inch he could reach.

Scott saved him. Scott always saved him, and Stiles was sorry that he had to. All Stiles wanted was to see his best friend smile. “Some of it’s bad. It got - really bad for a while,” Stiles confessed, and the words felt too heavy. It took him too long to think of happier memories, things he wanted Scott to know. “Some of it’s great. You still hold the record for stuffing the most chicken nuggets in your face, dude.”

His phone buzzed with replies.

_[From Kira:] On it. R u going to tell Scott everything?_  
 _[From Lydia:] Stop messing around. Tell him the truth. Don’t be an idiot._  
 _[From Derek:] K_

"We’re a good team, Scott. You’re always taking care of me. You’re why I’m okay."

___

“I get the feeling that it’s a two way kind of thing.” Scott slid his hand across Stiles’s chest, connecting the freckles with his fingers.  _Nogitsune_. He didn’t like the way the word tasted. Did it really mean something that his first memories to come back involved a monster wearing the face of his best friend? At least he knew with a rock solid certainty he couldn’t explain that the thing that had hurt him wasn’t Stiles.

“It’s not normal, is it? I thought the werewolf thing was weird enough, but there’s so much worse, isn’t there? We’re not just kids.” He didn’t want to ask, let the bad memories stay gone. Maybe he was a different person now. The things that had shaped and scarred him were gone, he had a chance to start over again and just be happy. That was worth everything, wasn’t it?

But it wasn’t fair that everyone else had to carry around the weight of it all and he was free.

“Tell me about chicken nuggets and stupid, harmless things, Stiles.” He murmured, sliding his hand lower to play through the coarse hair below his friend’s belly button. “Tell me about our first kiss and when I first said I loved you and I know we must have had the worst dates in the world. Give me something better to remember.” Maybe that could kick start something in his head that was better than the nightmare. Scott shivered, still feeling the lingering cold. “What did the others say? Maybe it doesn’t mean anything, it could just be something…I dunno, something because of you. Because I love you. Dreaming about the fox thing doesn’t have to mean there’s something wrong.”

___

 _Tell me more about the life we haven’t lead_ , Scott asked, and Stiles thought himself a good liar, a great liar even, but he couldn’t do that, not when everything he said would sound embarrassingly hopeful. It wouldn’t help anyone. If he convinced Scott they were real, it might even hurt him. But Stiles might never get the chance again.

"Derek’s a talker." Stiles grumbled, showing Scott their chat history, a total of five messages, three of which were from Stiles, before putting away his phone. He kissed the tip of Scott’s nose.

"The first time I asked you out… It was after Deaton - remember that guy we talking about earlier, your super powered boss? He’d taken away this big asshat who was giving us grief. And everyone kinda - we needed a break. So we made an awesome blanket fort from the living room to the fridge, and it was so badass. And we were watching RoboCop. We were covered in popcorn cheese, and you said… The worst thing they took from him was his ability to feel pain. And I just… I kinda-"

He smooshed his stomach folds together, squeaking out, “’ _Hey dude, Mr. Belly thinks you’re one badass hero with sexy heroism. Would you kiss him?’_ And it was the worst thing I ever did, and you laughed so hard you got a kernel up your nose.”

___

“He seemed like sort of a quiet guy.” Brooding would be the word he’d pick. Angriest eyebrows every might be another one. He didn’t seem cruel though, more guarded than anything. Scott wasn’t sure why, but he felt a fond sort of protectiveness for the guy even though he knew nothing about him. Except that he was a shitty texter, of course.

Scott laughed, pacified with ridiculous stories and hoping that the next time he closed his eyes he’d dream about belly flab and popcorn. He reached out and grabbed for Stiles’s side, pinching him hard and catching his mouth before he could complain. “That seems right. You’re just enough of a giant nerd to ask me out with your belly. I’m surprised you didn’t draw eyeballs on it or something.” That was better, he could cover up the fear and the nightmares with something that felt a thousand times more real than the cold steel of a sword shoved through him. This was what his life was, not foxes and pain.

“I’m sure you must have done worse things in your life, dude, but I’m glad you picked something so terrible for me. It’s good. It’s perfect.” Scott settled himself back around the other boy and let himself relax. “We’re gonna be okay. Just stay tonight, please?”

___

Scott believed him. Scott fucking believed him, and Stiles laughed with relief, dragging his mate closer and kissing him for all that he was worth. He could still squirm with exaggerated hurt where he’d been pinched. Something in his chest ached, and he thought about  _that_  time. If he’d tried it, if he’d just reached across their awful blanket fort and nudged Scott with his toe, if he’d asked him for a kiss and meant it, how much would have changed? How much would have been better.

"Asswipe, this is my room," he wheedled, wrapping Scott in a clumsy blanket burrito, and ruffling his terribad hair. "You should stay. We can recreate the Fort SticCall, and I’ll - like, lick pineapples off your chest, I dunno. I kinda wanna do that now."

Scott laughed like he didn’t have a care in the world, and why couldn’t he stay like this? Scott didn’t need to remember the Nogitsune, or the Benefactor, or all the other, terrible things they’d defeated, all those who wanted them dead. Beacon Hills was officially the territory of the McCall Pack. Well-meaning visitors came to  _hug_ him. He didn’t need his memories back. He could just - he could be Stiles’ Scott. That would be enough.

"You know… If you never got them back," he murmured, nipping idly at his best friend’s shoulder. He spread his hand across Scott’s hip, right below his Cookie Monster boxers. "It’d be okay… We could make new memories. You and me. I’ve got you, Scott. That’s all I want."

___

“My room now.” Scott claimed it and everything in it, including Stiles. He wiggled down into the blanket burrito with a happy grunt. The boy beamed out from the blankets at his friend like the worries over nightmares and nogitsunes never happened. “I think that sounds like a good idea. We’ll put a little flag on top and make out in it, okay?” Any place they could make out seemed like a good place to Scott. He didn’t remember all the previous kisses, but he was quickly learning how much he liked the feel of Stile beside him and the amazing way that he tasted.

Would it be so bad never to remember anything but this? If the Nogitsune was just the start of it, what else was locked away inside of him? How many other nightmares would turn out to be true? What kinds of horrors had he survived? Did it really mean so much when he could just lose himself in Stiles’s arms and pretend that werewolves and monsters didn’t exist? He was  _happy_  like this, that wasn’t pretend. He was loved and he was lucky and this was everything he wanted. Maybe he was someone different now. Did memories make the person? Without them, he could be anyone he wanted.

People were counting on him. Pack, right? He was the leader. If he turned his back on the person he used to be, he could be happy but he’d let them down. Could he be that selfish? Scott didn’t answer, he didn’t have an answer to give. He rolled Stiles up in the blankets with him. “You and me. Make me a fort, Stiles.”

___

"Ask nicely!" Stiles pursed his lips, and smacked his duckface across his best friend’s jaw, over his chin and cheeks and mouth. With a roar, he launched a full scale attack on all of Scott’s defenses, trapping him in his burrito shell, and tickling without mercy. There would be no prisoners.

He recognized Scott like this. This was the boy he used to know, a boy Stiles had never kissed, but one who would soon push him off so he could finish up his English homework, and whose biggest worry was making first string on the lacrosse team. Stiles missed him fiercely.

Would it be so bad? Scott would always be Melissas son, and he’d never do her wrong. Stiles would help him go back, any way he could. He never had to use his powers again. They could return the world of Epic Nerdom, leave the superhero business to Lydia and Malia. Derek was actually in good enough shape to help. He could still take care of Liam, help him as an Alpha. He didn’t have to be a soldier anymore.

Stiles wondered if he’d still recognize Scott if he stopped being a hero.

Then they rolled off the bed. As one does.

At one point, his Dad came in to ask if they had dinner, not even bothering to look under the blanket perimeter they set up to ward off enemies. ( _"I thought we had enough of this, boys?" "What’s the password!" "Don’t forget to call your mother, Scott."_ ). They hadn’t stopped laughing by the time Melissa called.

Dr. Deaton’s flight was coming in.

___

The world should stay like this, muted light filtering through blue and white sheets. A bowl of popcorn to share, though more ended up tossed in the vicinity of each other’s mouths (and almost always missed) than in them.  A wrestling match with too many elbows and laughing curses that turned into roaming hands and wet mouths and still curses, though a little more eager and a lot more breathless. And he couldn’t stop laughing when the Sheriff sighed and just accept it all, passwords were serious business after all. Their own little corner of the universe where the only thing that mattered the moment right now. No past, no future, just here in a heap with a pretty boy who made him smile.

If he remembered everything, would he still be able to keep this too? It didn’t seem like anyone knew the answer to that.

Scott didn’t recognize Deaton, but he knew this place with the smell of animals heavy in the air and the cold metal exam table in the middle of the room. They’d said to meet him here, that the vet was going to help, but Scott hesitated in the doorway as he studied the room from his dreams. Everything was exactly the same, though the scent of pain was long gone. It was just a memory, they’d beaten it and it was over. There was nothing here that could hurt him anymore.

“Scott?” The boy looked over at the smiling man who spoke with such calm authority. “I know what happened to you and I’ve been looking for a way to help. All of your memories are still there, they haven’t been taken away and I think I have a way to unlock them. Will you let me help?”

The boy thought back to blanket forts and cautious fingers and incautious needs…and he nodded.

___

Stiles drove them to the clinic.

He should have known something was wrong when Scott’s phone rang. He’d been full on laughter and a handful of popcorn, and there was salt and Scott on his lips. He’d commandeered all their pillows, and was boasting about kicking Scott off the floor forever when Melissa’s voice sounded on the line. There was so much hope in her words, Stiles didn’t have the heart to do anything but surrender.

They held hands the entire trip. The radio seemed too loud, and Stiles knew he was messing up. He should have been the most excited one. He was getting his best friend back. He felt physically ill.

There was a way out of all this, probably. If he thought of a lie good enough, or smart enough, maybe he could still have Scott. Maybe he wouldn’t lose his best friend. Melissa greeted them at the clinic, and Dr. Deaton didn’t look like he’d flown halfway around the world.

"I’ll see you on the flip side," he promised, pushing Scott forward by the shoulder. It was all Stiles could manage.

He didn’t get a kiss goodbye. 

Forty minutes later, Dr. Deaton came out of his clinic, and Scott was fast asleep, still wrapped in Stiles’ clothes, just as peaceful as he’d been when they popped in the first Battle Royale movie.

"He should sleep through the night." Dr. Deaton told Melissa. Stiles didn’t even pretend to not listen. "It wasn’t malicious magic, just a pulse of energy. The Coven’s been very helpful. He should get most of his memories back tonight, and throughout the next week, but if he develops headaches, this tea should help…"

Tea. Mother fucking, tea, that was all it took to unravel the best days of his life. They’d done nothing but drive each other mad, getting high on laughter and each other. He didn’t know how he could go from having everything to having nothing at all.

"Stiles?" He looked up a beat too late, staring almost unseeingly at Melissa. "Can you help me take him home?"

Stiles tucked Scott in that night, and told him a bed time story, about two boys who knew better but still decided to go looking for a dead body; they found a big bad wolf, instead. This was goodbye, not on the edge of an Oni’s sword or behind a wall that wouldn’t budge, but on the tip of the sweetest lie he could think of.

Stiles didn’t want to finish with ‘The End.’ He finished with ‘I love you.’

___

“Scott?”

The hallways were dark and silent except for the whispered name that brushed passed his ear like someone had breathed against him. He spun slowly, trying to get his bearings as he slowly wandered passed the rows of lockers. Moonlight poured through the windows leaving shifting patterns along the tiled floors. He knew this place. The school…he’d been here so many times.

“Scott.”

“Hello?” His voice had a strange echo, the end of the hall warping and twisting, pure blackness that seemed to swallow the moonlight whole. Bright red eyes watched from the shadows and Scott gasped, pressing a hand to his side as blood bloomed along what had been unmarred skin. A bite, deep punctures into his abdomen and he swore he could feel the poison burning through his veins. He turned with a squeak of his sneakers, racing down the hallway that seemed to stretch impossibly long as the hot snarling breath of the beast, the _alpha_ , was so close to catching him.

He didn’t want this! This wasn’t him. He didn’t have to do this again, he could block it all out. He wasn’t a monster, he could be human and happy and stay in a world where new memories and friendships could rewrite the old. Scott fumbled with the door handle of a classroom, swearing loudly as he struggled to pull it open. It finally gave way and he threw himself inside, slamming the door closed as something heavy banged against the other side. He slid across the floor, scrambling as far away as he could before the sound died away and the beast moved on.

Scott pulled himself carefully to his feet, looking around and frowning in confusion at the familiar walls of his room. He…wasn’t he just…?

“So is that a no?”

“Huh?” The boy blinked at Stiles, his best friend stretched on the bed, gaming controller in his hand and sucking Dorito dust from his fingertips.

“I said, you wanna play again? If you’re nice to me, I might even let you win.”

Scott’s heart flipped at the wry smirk and he crawled across the bed to wrap the human into his arms with a groan. “Stiles, I thought…I was having this nightmare and there was something chasing me and-“

“And it was just a dream, dumbass.” Stiles closed the gap between them, kissing him hard enough that the fears melted away in the scent of him, the spicy tang of doritos on his lips and the way his hands just seemed to know exactly where to stroke to set Scott’s head spinning.

“Can I stay with you?”

“Of course. You can’t get rid of me, Scott.” Stiles licked the shell of his ear and Scott felt himself surrendering.

“I don’t want to go.”

“Scott.”

The wolf paused at the sound of his name, the same whispered voice from the school. “Did you hear that?”

“I didn’t hear anything.” Stiles tugged on his beltloops, trying to pull him back down where it was warm and safe and everything made sense. “Stay with me, Scotty.”

“I can’t. There’s…there’s something wrong.” Scott reluctantly slid off the bed as Stiles protested loudly, calling out for him to come back, to hold on and not let go of him but he couldn’t stop the shuffle of his feet as he pulled open the door to his room and-

Scott stepped outside, blinking at the giant wooden stump in the clearing and feeling like he should know this place. He  _knew_ , he just couldn’t quite put it together yet.

“Scott.”

“A-Allison?!” The voice had a name and the world fell apart around the smiling brunette, beautiful and strong and whole again. Scott forgot how to breathe, staring with an open mouth as she came closer, humor dancing in her eyes. “Allison, I’m sorry.”

“Shhhh…” She put a finger to his lips, kissing him as he broke down and buried his face in the curve of her neck. He could feel her pulse, strong and alive, the scent of her that he’d never thought he’d smell again. She kissed away his tears, her laughter making him smile. “You have to wake up, Scott.”

“But I  _forgot_  you. How could I ever forget you? I love you so much and this was all my fault. I couldn’t save you, Allison!” Images flashed through his mind, the clearing replaced with the school courtyard and the girl in his arms bleeding to death before they were back in the woods. “No! I-I can’t. I can’t do this.”

“Stop. It’s not your fault, Scott, but you can’t stay here. I know it hurts, but I also know you’re strong enough.” She kissed the corner of his mouth, the bravest person he’d ever met in his entire life. The one who’d taught him how to love, that he was worth loving, that love could be something strong and sweet and even when it ended, there were bonds that would never break. A low growl sounded behind him and Scott pulled Allison behind his body to shield her from the creature that stepped out from beneath the trees. The alpha, the thing that chased him through the school.

“I’m not going to lose you again!”

“I’m already gone, Scott.” Her arms slid around his waist and she pressed her mouth to the back of his neck. “You need to move forward. You’re not going to run, that’s not who you are. I’m proud of you.”

Scott watched the beast circle closer, the darkness shifting and writhing as it shaped the wolf with red eyes that stopped before him and waited. “What if I don’t want to remember?”

“I know you, Scott McCall. I know you’ll make the right decision because I believe in you. I’ve always believed in you.”

“I miss you, Allison.”

"I know."

The boy reached out a shaking hand for the monster,  _his_  monster, the wolf that chased him through his nightmares and stroked fingertips across its fur before its fangs closed around his wrist in a burst of pain.

Scott didn’t move, but his eyes flew open, red and glowing as he stared at the ceiling of his bedroom.

___

Stiles always had an excuse. Half the time, he had them before he committed a crime. He didn’t have to be the hero in every story, just the guy who made it to the movie credits. ‘You started it, I’m finishing it,’ or ‘The end justifies the means.’ He could chalk up so much to just wanting to do the right thing, no matter what the consequence. He didn’t have fangs or claws; he needed to fight dirty. Even the Nogitsune - the Nogitsune who’d given him everything he thought he wanted, everything he thought he’d spend his life thriving for, he could say it wasn’t him.

Stiles didn’t. Stiles knew how much of him wanted to agree with the trickster, how badly he wanted to be just like it. But he still knew the excuse existed. 

He had nothing now, and he was facing the one judge he never wanted to disappoint. Scott wasn’t his Dad. Scott didn’t have to forgive him, but Stiles forgot that sometimes, because Scott just did. Scott usually did. 

Sleep took too long to come. Stiles spent a good half of the evening wondering why he just didn’t run. He’d never have to see Scott again, and if he cut all ties first, he could convince himself that it didn’t hurt as bad, probably. He could convince himself that seeing Scott laugh didn’t make his entire day brighter. Or at least, he could try.

He’d folded himself into Scott’s chair, long limbs shoved every which way they could fit as he drooled on tattered upholstery. His hand shot out, knocking over half the things on Scott’s table. Stiles jerked awake at the crash, blindly reaching out for something - someone. That someone was always Scott.

___

Scott’s hand closed around Stiles’s wrist as he flailed, red eyes staring into unfocused, half-asleep brown. He didn’t say a word, didn’t move from the bed, just held on and searched the human’s face like there were answers written somewhere in the line of his jaw or the dusting of moles. Memories superimposed over memories, feelings that he thought he understood as simple and easy suddenly the most complicated thing in the world. He’s fallen in love thinking he’d always been in love, head over heels in a handful of days. Scott had  _loved_  him.

The last few days were disjointed and he tried to make sense of everything. It was difficult to look at the world you knew when you didn’t remembering a thing. It felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath him again. To lose everything and start all over, clinging to anything that seemed certain. Stiles had promised him that certainty, a connection he couldn’t deny even when he didn’t remember why he trusted his best friend. But it was a  _lie_! Everything he felt, everything he’d been convinced to feel built around stories that never happened and Stiles whispering promises that meant nothing. Why would he do something like that? It wasn’t okay, he’d been vulnerable and looking for anyone to trust, why would the one person who was supposed to always have his back use him like this?!

His grip was firm, keeping the other boy trapped without squeezing hard enough to hurt. His best friend…he remembered the feeling of Stiles hair fisted between his fingers and the taste of his mouth in lazy kisses that he’d been so sure of. “ _Why didn’t you tell me?_ ”

For the first time in so long, he knew this boy and everything they’d been to each other, and he stared at Stiles like he didn’t know him at all.

___

Stiles wished Scott had shouted at him. The first person to throw the punch was automatically to blame. They learned that much in kindergarten, and Scott could forgive him if he messed up, too, maybe. Something caught in his throat, and he still tried to pull away, just one, hastily aborted jerk that left him staring down at his Alpha. Stiles wanted to go back to looking at his best friend.

"I didn’t want to confuse you," Stiles started, but his jaw slammed shut a moment later. That wasn’t right. Maybe it had been, for the first few minutes after his lie, maybe even after the first kiss, but not for long afterwards. His thoughts tripped over themselves, as Stiles tried to find a foot to stand on. 

This might have been his last chance to make it all right, and he didn’t know what to do. 

"No, I… That’s." Stiles wanted to go back to pushing into Scott’s personal space. He wanted to make it okay for them to hold each other close. Those days had still been the best he could remember in so long. His heart lodged in his throat, and Stiles couldn’t help the way his voice broke. "You said - you thought we were together. I wanted a chance to be with you. Then I just… I couldn’t lose you."

___

Scott remained impassive, expression hard. He wore his betrayal like a mask, hiding the confusion beneath its cold exterior. Stiles had taken advantage of him when he was lost, even for a boy who could forgive almost anything in stung bitterly. He’d been manipulated into love and now he wasn’t sure of his own feelings. How much of it was real and how much was built on the lies of something they’d never had.

“You wouldn’t have lost me, you never would have. Were you afraid to say anything? Were you lonely? Was it funny? Was it because you were  _horny?_ God, Stiles, I let you…I wanted you to…”  _How much of it was real?_ Scott bit back a snarl and let go of the other boy’s wrist. He sat up in bed, the motion making him dizzy and he rubbed his fingers into his temples with a groan.

“I trusted you.” The words were so quiet it was like he didn’t speak, something that should have been a compliment now used as an accusation. A year and a half of absolute hell, it left the spark in his eyes dimmed and the light faded. It weighed down on his shoulders until it crushed him, spider-webbing cracks running through his smile. The boy he’d been over the last few days had been free from all of it, loving his best friend with an unabashed joy because love was the only thing in his entire world. Scott didn’t know if there was a place for that boy in the man he’d become. He’d stayed strong because of his friends, and now even Stiles had used him. “I need you to leave.”

___

Scott let him go, and Stiles felt like he’d been left adrift at sea. He swayed in place, staring at Scott with wide eyes that refused to understand the indifference he saw on his best friend’s face. That wasn’t Scott. That couldn’t be Scott, except it was, and Stiles had done that. Stiles was the reason his best friend looked like a stranger, and Stiles still knew him well enough to see where pain settled on his bones. 

"No, no I-!" He stuttered out, and Stiles had to fight back the urge to lunge forward. Tea, he looked for instinctively, before he realized it was no longer his place to try and help. Scott might not accept it. He couldn’t even ask Scott to. He wished Scott had lashed out. He wished he’d hit him. At least then Stiles could understand why everything suddenly hurt.

He should be able to fix things. This couldn’t be how things ended. His legs felt boneless, and Stiles was too scared to try standing.

"Please…" He begged, heat spreading across his cheeks, up his nape and across his ears. His skin prickled until it was left raw, and Stiles thought about holding Scott so close he could feel his laughter through his chest. "I love you."

___

“And I don’t. I can’t. You never gave me a chance to and everything I feel…felt, it’s not real. You lied to me.” Scott had loved him in new ways that left him confused now, convinced at the time that he’d always felt that way. He remembered how good it was to curl into him, how his body would react to Stiles’s touch and how willing he’d been to let himself be used. He’d wanted it, begged for more and laughed afterwards when they were tired and sated. But it had all been because of a lie and anything he felt was poisoned. Scott couldn’t tell if he’d loved Stiles honestly or because he thought he should, because he believed he’d already loved him. Did he fall in love or did he just love Stiles because he thought he had to?

Could he love Stiles? Or had that possibility been taken away from him?

Scott swung his feet off the side of the bed, his back to the other boy. “You were my best friend, dude. I’m supposed to be able to trust you.” His entire body bowed like it was being crushed, but he didn’t turn and face Stiles. “I can’t talk to you now, I need you to leave. Go home, Stiles. I can’t do this.”

___

Stiles was supposed to fight back. Maybe he was supposed to give Scott his space. Maybe he was supposed to beg for forgiveness he didn’t deserve. He didn’t know what to do anymore. He always had Scott in his corner, one way or another. He’d messed up before, but never like this. There was nothing like this. He still remembered what it felt like to kiss his best friend.

"You can trust me," Stiles pleaded. Scott was close enough for him to reach, but he felt like he was words away. Stiles didn’t know how to reach him. "I’m sorry."

He needed Scott to take him back. He needed to make things all right again. There had to be an answer somewhere. They’d taken apart an Alpha Pack, destroyed the Nogitsune. They were best friends since Velcro sneakers and clip-on suspenders. They were supposed to be able to handle everything.

Stiles found the one way to destroy the invincible. “I’m so sorry.”

His feet lead him to the Jeep, and it took three tries before he could the engine started, but Stiles only got halfway home before he gave up. When he told the rest of their pack that Scott was fine, no one replied.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing collaborative work/RP!
> 
> You can find Tmautog's awesome fics on [tumblr](http://tmautog.tumblr.com/tagged/writing) and keep up with this story [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune/TruebornAlpha [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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